Where Do We Begin
by anthfan
Summary: In the aftermath of 2x20 there is only one place Oliver wants to be.


**A/N: post 2x20 fic that got away from me. Another look at how the direct aftermath of Moira's death could have happened. Enjoy and let me know what you think!**

Felicity had only been asleep for an hour when the door bell started ringing. Snatching up her phone she pushed loose hair from her face and saw it was two thirty in the morning and she had no missed calls.

With a growl of annoyance she climbed from bed and made her way down the stairs. After Oliver had left with his mother and sister to head back to the mansion for the night Digg had told her he'd watch Roy that night and she should go home and get a decent amount of sleep for once. She didn't need to be told twice.

As she made her way to the door the incessant ringing was interrupted only pounding knocks and as she got to the bottom of the stairs she heard a familiar voice call, 'Ms. Smoak!'

Running the remaining few feet she only barely cast a glance in the peep hole to confirm Detective Lance's figure. She couldn't imagine what could have sent him to her place so late an without calling first but she knew it wasn't good.

However, when she wrenched open the door she wasn't prepared for what she saw. Oliver stood slumped against the frame, half held up by Lance. There was an injury to his head that hadn't been there before covered with gauze and tape, his suit was torn and dirty, but it was his face that made her gasp.

He looked destroyed. Never had she seen him so broken. Not Tommy. Not finding out Sara was alive. Not anything he'd ever told her about the island. He looked like he wasn't even alive.

"Oh my god, Oliver!" she cried out, hands already reaching for him, slipping under his suit jacket as he began to tip forward towards her.

Lance grunted and shifted his weight, "Help me get him in, he's heavier than he looks,"

With minimal help from Oliver they got him as far as her living room where he half fell onto the couch. Felicity sat at his side, staring in horror at the eyes that didn't blink but also didn't seem to be seeing anything.

A soft hand wrapped around her upper arm and gave her a small tug, "Come on, I'll tell you what happened. He's been like that since I found him...barely said two words,"

There was something more, some unknown she wasn't aware of yet and as she looked between Lance and Oliver she knew whatever it was changed everything.

She let herself be drawn into the foyer, standing so she could see into the darkened room and keep watch over him as she talked to Lance.

The older man ran a hand through his already messy hair and let out a long breath, his eyes were haunted too she could tell and whatever it was had affected him as well.

"Just tell me," she said quickly,

He gave a nod and lifted his chin, "Moira Queen is dead,"

She felt like the bottom had dropped out from under her. Both hands came up to cover her mouth as her eyes flashed to Oliver who hadn't moved.

"How?" she heard herself asking even though she knew. In her heart she knew.

Lance shook his head sadly, "Their car was hit, it was bad. Near as we can tell they were taken into the woods about ten miles outside the city, tied up...We found Moira...double edged sword through the heart."

A strangled noise left her throat as tears immediately clouded her vision. "Oh my god. Oh my god. Thea….and Oliver…"

"They saw it," Lance confirmed and she felt her knees buckle slightly,

"Slade-"

"I don't know what the hell's going on anymore with this psychopath. But it's bad. You and your guy, you got a plan? Because from where I'm standing…"

She brushed hot tears off her cheeks and felt a flash of protectiveness wash over her, "We're doing what we can," she said almost fiercely,

Lance didn't say anything in response to that and she turned her attention back to Oliver. "Where's Thea? She needs…she doesn't have anyone now. She needs to be protected. If anything happens to her too…"

"She's still at the hospital. They sedated her for now and there's cops outside her room. I'm sure once your security man knows he'll post his own unit."

At that she jerked her head around and almost glared at him, "Why didn't you call? Why did you let them go through all of that alone?"

"I wasn't first on the scene, by the time I found out they were already at the hospital. I said I'd call you but he told me no. In fact it was one of the only things he said. He just asked for me to take him here and...couldn't bring myself to deny him that."

She looked at him in shock and surprise and then her mind began to whirl because it didn't make sense for Oliver to ask to go to his assistants house, especially when she was technically his ex assistant now since the takeover. "I'm...I'm sure he wasn't thinking straight." she said with a gulp, "I'm sure he meant for you to take him to Laurel, or Sara," she didn't know if Lance was aware his younger daughter had left town. "I don't know why he'd ask for you to-"

Lance dropped a heavy hand on her shoulder and locked his eyes on hers, "Ms. Smoak, he's exactly where he needs to be. You're the one who can help him right now."

The air stilled in her chest as she took in the significant look he was leveling her with and she understood. Lance knew.

Time hung between them but with the smallest dip of his chin she knew he wasn't going to say anything, not now, and maybe not ever.

With a jolt her heart seemed to resume beating and Lance blinked, hands settling on his hips as he half turned to look at Oliver. "Take care of him,"

He was already moving towards the door when she noticed and hurried to follow, "Thank you for bringing him here, Detective."

"Yeah," he replied with a tight-lipped droop of his mouth and then he was slipping out the door.

Felicity hurried to Oliver's side to see he hadn't moved, he still sat upright, shoulders down, head bowed slightly with his hands limp in his lap.

"Oliver," she said softly, moving to sit on the coffee table in front of him, "Oliver...please...look at me,"

When there was no response her shaking hand reached out and ever so gently touched his face. He flinched and she froze, but when she stroked her thumb over his cheek he leaned in to her touch and it made her heart clench.

For a long while that's all she did, let him get used to her touch, let him start to feel something even if it was on the outside. She cut her eyes over him as she sat there. His suit was bloodstained, dark stains barely visible on the dark fabric but she could see where it had run beneath the lapel and left brownish-red splotches along the collar of his shirt. The knees were stiff too with dried mud and debris and what she was certain was more blood just probably not his.

The thought made her stomach turn and she knew the first thing she'd need to do was get him changed, make sure his knee hadn't been injured any further, and only then could she start working on his mind.

His breath puffed across her wrist with each exhale, but the pattern was slow and even. When she carefully drew her hand back he actually blinked and for some reason she took that as a good sign.

"Oliver, I'm going to take your jacket off," he didn't acknowledge that he'd heard her, but he also didn't put up any resistance as she began to push the heavy material off his shoulders. When it became trapped at his elbows she pulled one arm out and then the other, tossing the ruined jacket on the floor.

His hands fell back to their previous position and she couldn't resist taking them into her own. A stifled gasp got caught in her throat when she felt how cold they were. Oliver was never cold.

She took the time to rub his hands between hers, feeling the rough calluses he'd developed from the bow. But they were stained too, dirt and dried blood caked under his nails and across his palms. She'd clean them soon.

When she felt a bit more warmth in his skin she squeezed tight and made her way up his arms to his shoulders. Something in her knew he needed the contact, that even if he wasn't showing any outward recognition it was still getting through to him.

His tie was already loose and crooked and she tried to ignore how intimate it was as she undid the knot and slipped it from around his neck. She didn't give herself time to think as she immediately started in on the buttons of his shirt. He didn't so much as shift when she had to pull the tails from his waist

She carefully removed his cufflinks and sat them aside before pulling the formerly crisp white shirt from his arms.

Sitting in front of her in his t-shirt she could almost think nothing was wrong, except for the look on his face and the eyes she couldn't stop staring at because she'd never seen him so devoid of everything before.

Easy part done she reached forward again and cupped his face in both her hands, slightly tilting his head until his eyes were at least pointed at her. "Oliver, you have to get up now. I need to get your...I need to help you get changed and see to your knee, okay. You're going to have to help me."

Her hands hadn't stopped moving as she talked. Stroking over his cheeks, through his hair, down to press against his neck. He didn't make a sound, but when she stood and reached out to wrap both hands around his left bicep and pull up he struggled to his feet.

With quick frantic movements she slid under his arm and grabbed on to his waist, clutching a handful of his belt because he was leaning almost all his weight on her and she could feel her legs and back already sinking in protest. Gritting her teeth she pushed upwards and began to walk forward, there was no way she was getting him up the stairs, but luckily she'd switched the office and the guest room when she'd moved in, preferring to have the upstairs exclusively to herself.

The short hallway and additional ten feet to the bed felt like ten miles. By the time they'd made it to the side of the mattress she was breathing heavy and regretting her decision to not call Digg yet.

She shook herself out of that thought and put her focus back on where it needed to be. Oliver. Once she had him cleaned up she'd call.

He tried to sit down as soon as he felt the bed hit his leg but she held him tight and moved to stand in front of him, "No! Not yet! Just...one more minute okay."

Eyes fixed firmly on his shirt and nowhere else she risked letting go with one hand so she could undo his belt. Cheeks flaming even though she knew he'd probably never remember it she worked the button and zipper as quick as she could and pushed the pants down his hips.

"Okay, you can sit now," she said as she blew loose hair out of her face as helped guide him down. When she knew he wasn't going to tip over she knelt at his feet and slid his shoes off, the fine Italian leather beyond ruined. His socks were wet so she peeled those off as well before pulling his pants off all the way, leaving him in black boxer briefs.

"Oh, Oliver," she breathed out when she caught sight of his knee. It was swollen and bruised and when she laid a gentle hand over it she could feel the heat of the mangled tendons and muscle beneath. It was the only spot on him that seemed warm.

Unable to help herself she stood took his face in her hands again, thumbs brushing over his too pale skin. "I'm so sorry," she whispered as she leaned down and pressed a kiss to his hair.

His t-shirt was slightly damp, from sweat or adrenaline or the elements she didn't know. He raised his arms obediently as she tugged it over his head seeing new bruises forming from where he'd been tied up.

She blinked back hot tears, refusing to let them fall. She'd cry for him later, because god knows he'd been through too much and someone needed to help shoulder it with him.

Reaching around him she pulled up the pillows and then pushed down on his shoulders, "You need to lay down, Oliver, please," she said when she felt him resist. At her quiet plea he acquiesced, and she helped support his leg as he pulled them onto the bed.

Biting her lip as she stared down at him she grabbed the light throw at the foot of the bed and draped it over him, mentally admonishing herself for not pulling the covers down first, but it was too late now, she'd never get them worked out from under him and there was no way she was going to make him move.

She didn't want to leave him but she needed to grab some supplies and call Digg. Sighing she ran a hand over his head, "I'll be right back, okay? I won't be far. You're safe here,"

As she gathered up his clothes she wondered why she'd said that last part. They really weren't safe, none of them were, but it had seemed like the right thing to say.

With one last worried glance his direction she hurried from the room, first stopping in the living room to leave the clothes in a pile but not before fishing out Oliver's wallet, phone, and knife she knew he always kept on him.

Not wanting to waste time going up to her room to get her phone she used his to call Digg as she moved around her kitchen making an ice pack and wetting cloths so she could clean the blood off of Oliver.

"Yeah, boss?" Digg answered and she suddenly found her throat clogged with tears as she leaned heavily against her counter and tried to find her voice.

"Oliver?" Digg asked again and this time she could hear the concern,

"It's me, Digg,"

"Felicity, what's going on?"

"I need you to come here, now." she said without explanation, but knowing he'd have questions,

"Felicity…"

"Moira's dead!" she blurted out, clapping a hand over her mouth at how loud she'd been, "Oliver's...its not good. You need to put more security on Thea, she's at the hospital and then I need you to come here with the med kit, okay."

Digg was silent and then she heard his low curse. He didn't ask how Moira had died because he knew.

She could hear him moving around, gathering supplies and suddenly she remembered why he was at the lair, "Oh god, Roy!" he shouldn't be left alone but they were down a team member since Sara had left and had no one else to turn to.

He hesitated and then she heard him on the move again, "I'll put a fresh bag on before I leave, that'll give us at least five hours,"

"Okay...okay, that's good," she needed him with her, with them, that's all she knew.

"You good?" he asked, able to feel the concern he had for her through the phone,

"No," it was an honest answer, she wasn't good at all.

Digg sighed, "I'll be there as soon as I can,"

When the line went dead she slipped the phone into the pocket of her sleep pants and grabbed the towels and ice. Oliver was exactly as she had left him.

"I'm back," she called out as she entered the room, not wanting to startle him, "I brought ice for your knee. Digg's on the way with the good drugs and hopefully your brace. I didn't ask him to grab it but I'm sure he did. There's a change of clothes in his car already so you won't need to worry about that," her words seemed hollow in the too quiet space and she had to swallow the rest of them down. He didn't need her babbling right then.

She climbed onto the bed from the other side and sat kneeling beside him. With a grimace she pulled back the blanket to look at his injured knee taking another pillow and tucking it underneath the joint before she lay the bag of ice on top. Even the cold sting didn't make him jump and the fear inside her was growing; she didn't know if he could come back from this.

One thing at a time, she reminded herself, picking up one of his hands and beginning to scrub. She tried not to think about whose blood it was. Oliver's? Thea's? Moira's? In the end she supposed it didn't matter, she knew he felt responsible regardless. In his mind right then he was just as much to blame for his mother's death as if he had been the one to kill her himself.

When she was done with his hands she put the now dirty cloth aside and brought a clean one to his face, wiping away traces of tears he must have shed at some point. His eyes finally fell shut as she washed over his lids, and across his brow, cleaning the dried blood around his bandage. His stubble was rough under her fingers where she lightly held his jaw, turning his head one way and then the other, before she moved down to clean the dried red streaks that had run down his neck.

Her task finished she looked down at him, eyes still shut, looking like he'd fallen asleep, but she knew he hadn't.

Hating herself she began to speak, "Oliver…I need you to tell me what happened," her voice trembled and she couldn't help but run her fingers over his cheek, and into his hair, her nails scratching and rubbing in small comforting circles. She didn't want to ask him. She didn't want to make him tell her, but they needed to know. They needed to know if Slade had said anything, if he'd given Oliver something that could be used against him.

"Oliver, please...I know it's hard." her voice broke and she scooted closer until her knees pressed into his ribs, "I know it's hard, but I need to know what-"

"She's dead," he said suddenly, out of nowhere and in a timbre she'd never heard come from him before. It sent a chill up her spine because his voice had been deadened of all emotion.

"I know," she said sadly and resumed her ministrations even though she was nervous now that maybe her touch wouldn't be wanted, but she couldn't seem to stop. Everything in her called out to comfort him, to help ease his pain, to _fix this_.

"He made them kneel, just like on the island when Shado died." his eyes were open now, looking straight at her and she couldn't have looked away if she'd tried,

With her heart in her throat she listened as he continued, "He told me to choose. To choose which one he was going to kill. My sister or my mother. I told him to kill me but he wouldn't."

Tears flowed freely down her face now, aching for him. She couldn't imagine the horror of living through something like that once, much less twice.

"But Mom saved us both. She stood up and told him it would be her. I…" there was a crack finally, and she saw his eyes redden and become glassy, "I couldn't stop her and then she was on the ground. Dead,"

She wiped moisture from the corner of his eyes but she couldn't keep up with how quickly it came, "He said one more."

"One more what?" she asked when he didn't continue,

"One more has to die before this is over."

She stilled as a cold chill ran through her making her shiver, "No one else is going to die, Oliver. We're not going to let that happen."

"You don't know that!" he roared, shoulders coming off the bed as his hands clenched into fists but she didn't back up. "I can't stop him! Look what he's already done and he is not going to stop until he's taken everything!"

"We can stop him and we will! We're going to get that cure and we're going to use it this time! And then you're going to end this once and for all." she stated fiercely, "You are the strongest man I've ever met and he is not going to win."

Oliver just shook his head and looked away, "I'm not strong. I'm broken and beaten. He's always been stronger."

"No! You're not giving up! Your mother didn't sacrifice herself for you to just accept this."

"She died for me and for Thea. She died because I failed."

"She died because Slade killed her," she almost hissed, her face only a few inches from his now in her attempt to get him to listen and actually hear what she was saying.

"Together we're stronger than him. He may have the mirakuru but you have me and Digg and we're not going to leave you." her head fell forward to rest against his, so close now their breaths mingled. He had to find some hope again, even if it was just a small bit. If he didn't they wouldn't stand a chance.

A strangled noise came from deep in his chest and she felt a physical pain as she watched him struggle, "I'm not leaving you," she whispered, "You won't be alone, I promise."

His breaths were coming in short, staccato bursts as he fought to not completely break down. "Tomorrow," she stated forcefully, "Tomorrow we'll figure it out. Right now you need to be Oliver." her hands stroked over his head coaxing him closer and closer to her,

"She's dead," he repeated, but this time was completely different.

She felt him shudder, a bone deep shaking that wracked his chest and then he was wrapping around her, pulling her into him as he buried his face in her neck and let himself go.

Felicity ended up half propped against the headboard on her side with her arms around his head and back. As he grieved for his mother she ran a hand over his hair and pressed kisses she knew he'd never remember into the crown of his head, weeping for him.

That's how Digg found them, Oliver's shoulders silently shaking as he clung to her. Digg stood in the doorway, black duffle falling soundlessly to the floor as he let out a long breath and took in what remained of their team.

He didn't say a word as he settled himself into the chair in the corner and she gave him a sad smile of thanks.

Eventually Oliver calmed, but he never made to move from her hold. Later she'd be self-conscious of how his head ended up pillowed on her breasts but just then, as she dragged a hand from the nape of his neck around to his jaw and then back again it didn't seem important.

When his breaths evened out she risked pulling back far enough to look down and see him asleep. Her breath caught, heart flipping, causing a fresh wash of tears to spark behind hot, tired eyes. She let her own head rest against the pillow and shut her eyes tight, only vaguely aware as the hand she was comforting him with became slower and slower until she stopped altogether with her palm covering the pulse point in his neck.

She didn't know what woke her but she came to with a start to see Oliver silhouetted in the doorway, slowly limping his way back into the now darkened room. Digg was still in the chair, legs outstretched, arms crossed over his chest, seemingly asleep.

Felicity watched as Oliver returned to the bed and pulled the covers back, she automatically lifted her hips and legs and slid under them as he silently climbed back in. Not knowing what to do she froze, propped up on one elbow as she stared at him.

She never expected him to reach out and clasp her shoulder, giving her a tug until she let herself be pulled down. With her head now resting on his chest she felt his ribs expand and then release beneath her. A broad hand cupped the back of her head, smoothing her hair out of her face. "Thank you," he said so quietly she almost didn't hear him.

Her heart skipped a beat and she had to bite her lip to keep from making a noise. He wasn't lost. She'd found him. She'd managed to tether him down if only for a little while. Slowly she unfurled her fist and let her palm press into the now warm skin of his chest.

Tomorrow they'd deal with reality. Tomorrow they'd take care of Thea, and start arranging a funeral. Tomorrow they'd start coming up with a plan to take the fight to Slade.

But for the rest of the night they'd sleep in her small guest room, the only three people in the world who truly understood what they were doing and why. For the rest of the night she'd let Oliver take comfort in any form he could find it. She'd be his hope and his anchor because thats what he needed her to be. And so did she.


End file.
